


Aches and Pains

by celluloidbroomcloset



Category: The Avengers (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, TNA, The New Avengers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:43:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4160868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celluloidbroomcloset/pseuds/celluloidbroomcloset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after "Injuries," as Steed awakens in some pain. </p><p>Disclaimer: was originally intended to be part of a larger, on-going story, but that never happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aches and Pains

The first sensation Steed experienced was a profound and all-encompassing pain. It began on the right side of his lower back and extended, with little interruption, to the roots of his hair. The fact that he lay on a bed and not on the pebbly ground made no difference – he could have been lying on a cloud made of the softest down and the pain would still wrap itself around him. 

That was the first sensation. The second was the pressure of lips on his ear - a gentle, soothing touch that contrasted oddly with the pain throbbing through his limbs. Fond kisses moved from his ear, down his jaw, and thence to his neck. Auburn hair brushed his skin. He knew it was auburn, because it could be nothing else. 

Silk pajamas rustled against his bare, aching back, and a long arm came about his chest. Her fingertips stroked the coarse hairs. 

“Good morning, darling,” said the feminine voice, and he could hear the smile even before he felt her press another kiss to his shoulder.

“Good morning, Emma.”

A week – no, longer than that, because he’d been off in Kent for two days before the French assignment, so it was closer to a week and a half – a week and a half since they’d made love. Not so long a time, comparatively, but for them…Steed felt her hand on his lower abdomen, right at the band of his pajama bottoms. Yes, it had been far too long. 

Steed closed his eyes as her nimble fingers touched him, playfully but with definite intent. His mind reached back to the last morning they awoke together, a week and a half ago. He’d been well-rested then, and it showed – he recalled the feel of her naked body, the taste of her lips, the wondrous sensation – indescribable, really – of making love with her. He loved making love with her in the mornings. Invigorating to the spirit, relaxing to the body, tension increased and then dispelled. A chance for long, languid exploration, testing of reactions – an almost philosophical approach to the art of love. Steed considered himself a connisseur in that area. He knew every inch of flesh on her lovely body, yet found he was constantly discovering new ways to appreciate her. She was fine wine he’d never tire of drinking, a rare flower he’d never cease to gaze upon. A woman as varied and mercurial and impassioned as he could ever desire. To lie in the afterglow with his head pillowed on her breasts, holding her slim hips between his hands – was there any finer place for a man to be?

Enough memory there to move any red-blooded male to rapture, even if her fingers weren’t stroking him or her lips trailing across his neck. But Steed knew from some experience that his body was not going to play second fiddle to his mind – or his libido – and he was in far too much pain to make love to her properly, even if he could work into a state of arousal.

He turned towards her, wincing as the ache passed down his arm and his back seized again. Emma must have felt the slowness in his movement, because she let him turn in her embrace without attempting to carry on the familiar early-morning foreplay.

Oh, but Emma Peel was lovely in the mornings. Sleep-tossed, she had that wonderful natural quality that so endeared her to his heart. But most wonderful was the luminosity in her eyes, and the fondness that he saw there. 

“You’re in pain,” she said. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, touching his thumb to her soft mouth.

“Don’t be sorry.” She kissed his thumb, then took the tip between her teeth and nibbled. Steed began hating France and Kent and the Ministry and his old, tired body. 

“It isn’t right,” he said, kissing the bare skin at the top of her chest. “You’re still young. You need…” 

“Don’t finish that sentence. I don’t need anyone to tell me what I need.” She stroked his hair. “You men always want to be noble and self-sacrificing, but it’s really rather unfair when you tell us what it is we’re supposed to want.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“Do you think I’m not?”

“You deserve more than a broken down old warhorse with no better sense than to tangle with men half his age and twice his size.”

“I’m sure you laid them all out flat, one by one.”

“You see the result.”

“Poor darling,” she teased, running her hand down his chest again. “Where does it hurt?”

“I think there may be a patch on my sternum that is not currently throbbing with hidden aches.”

“I suppose your mouth is painless enough?” 

Steed kissed her to test the idea. She tasted wonderful, like strawberries and cream on a summer day in the country, when the flowers have bloomed and the birds are nesting in the hedgerows. Not that he would ever confess to her such a maudlin sentiment, lest she think he was going dotty.

“Mmmm,” said Emma, reclining back against the pillows. “Your lips still work, it seems.”

“If only the rest of me would obey the dictates of my mind.” 

He looked into her hooded, bedroom eyes and once more damned his old body. Ten years ago, he would have recovered already and spent the morning making her moan, gasp, whimper into his ear. Of course, while he might not be up for it, there were other ways…

He kissed her lips and made his intentions clear by slipping one hand into her silk pajama bottoms. His fingers caressed the familiar crispness of her pubic hair and probed the soft center beneath. She made breathy gasp into his mouth as he tickled her.

“You’re a rat and a liar,” she mumbled fondly.

“Old dogs still remember some tricks,” he replied.

She was wet and aroused already, and he carried on stroking her while his other hand undid the buttons on her shirt and bared her breasts. He kissed the soft line between them and brought his lips to one taut pink nipple. That delicate bud stiffed in his mouth. She whimpered and held his head; her fingers stroked the short hairs on his neck, causing a tingle to pass through his frame. He curved two fingers inside of her, thrusting upwards with his thumb on her clitoris. Her hips rose and fell in time to his rhythm, thighs rubbing together to hold his hand in place. Gone were his aches and pains in the wake of her pleasure. All he wanted was to hear her cry out in music finer than Mozart. 

“Come for me,” he whispered, kissing her ear. He rubbed one soft, full breast, and lowered his mouth to the other.

The gasps emanating from her lips let him know she was close. His fingers thrust deeper into the inviting warmth of her body. How he delighted in being able to move her so intensely. Cool and aloof she might appear in public, but he knew she was warm and generous and full of passion, and he did not care if he was the only man in the world who knew it. It rather gave him a sense of overweening pride.

She came with a choked cry, crossing her legs to trap his hand. He drew his head back to watch her orgasm – the light of pleasure so intense on her face, her whole body spasming with uncontrolled ecstasy. She never looked so beautiful as in these moments, stripped of civilized trappings, his primal, mercurial woman. He saw also the moment she returned to earth, as her eyes took on a light not just of sexual gratification but of gratitude. He held her and kissed her jaw as her breathing slowed. 

“Lovely,” she said and wrapped an arm around his aching shoulders. 

Steed chuckled. “Can’t have you running off in search of some handsome young stallion.” 

“I’m quite happy with my handsome old warhorse.”

Emma kissed his cheek. “But that glorious body of yours had better recuperate quickly. There are some aches that hands simply cannot satisfy.” 

“If I could…”

“I know, darling.” She kissed his lips. “And we will. Now, into the bath with you and soak those aching muscles.” 

“Mmph.” Steed struggled into a sitting position and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Emma watched him go, moving a bit slowly to compensate for the aches and pains she knew were coursing through his body. She’d insisted that he was not too old for the work he did– and he wasn’t, really – but she knew also that his body was not as quick to heal as it had once been. His weariness would last for more days than he cared to actually remain in bed. Not for the first time since their reunion, she longed for a better life – not for her, but for him. 

But taking Steed from the field would be destroying the most basic part of him, and she would never wish that. So with a sigh, she rose from their bed, her body still a tad imbalanced after his generous apology for his aches. 

When she exited the bedroom to start preparations for coffee and breakfast, Emma discovered Purdey and Gambit seated at her kitchen table, and the coffee already percolating on the stove.

“I suppose it too much to hope that you might have started an omelette?” 

There was greater severity in her voice than perhaps she intended, but it was tiresome enough when Steed used to break into her flat, much less his two younger partners with whom she did not share quite so intimate a relationship.

“Sorry, we’re both useless in the kitchen,” said Gambit, folding the newspaper he’d obviously picked up from her front door. 

“Speak for yourself. Good morning, Emma.” Purdey smiled, far too bright and chipper for this time of the morning. 

Emma put the toast in the toaster and poured herself a cup of the thick black coffee before daring to speak again.

“How long have you been here?” she said. 

“Only a few minutes,” said Gambit. “We didn’t think it proper to disturb you.”

“But breaking into my apartment, that’s proper.”

“When Steed wasn’t at home, we naturally assumed…”

“I know what you naturally assumed.”

Emma tasted the coffee, trying to quell the rising anger, not to mention embarrassment. She hoped that they had not really been there long. She had not exactly curbed her vocal reaction to Steed’s ministrations.

“Well?” she said after a minute of uncomfortable silence.

“Where is Steed?” asked Gambit.

“The bath, and he might be awhile.”

“Is he all right?” The concern in Purdey’s face was touching, but it only served to heighten Emma’s annoyance when she noted that neither of them looked any the worse for wear.

“He’s in pain,” she said pointedly. “I don’t know what happened in France and I don’t suppose either of you have the clearance to tell me, but he has a beautiful bruise and probably more than a few internal injuries.”

Gambit cleared his throat. “He was jumped.”

“I gathered that. And where were you?”

“We were doing our job,” said Gambit. “Just like he was. It’s a risk…” 

“…we all must take. Spare me, Gambit, I’ve heard them all before.”

“Emma, we need to speak to Steed.”

She spread her hands. “By all means, go in and see him if you like. But knock first – he doesn’t like being surprised in the bath.”

With a somewhat annoyed snort, Gambit went off to try his luck. Emma glanced at Purdey. All things considered, she liked the young woman – a touch difficult to understand, and a touch more recalcitrant about certain areas of her life, but a decent, lovely girl who both respected and, it was obvious, idolized Steed. Emma sometimes wondered if there wasn’t a bit more than idolization at times. 

“Is he really in a lot of pain?” Purdey asked. Emma smiled finally, touched by the concern in her voice.

“He’ll recover. He always does.”

“I’m sorry about that. We were covering the ground, and he was just unlucky, I suppose.”

Emma shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, Purdey. I know well enough what these sorts of things entail. Steed would put himself into harm’s way before he’d allow anyone else to.” 

Their conversation was interrupted by a shout, a splash, a thud and another shout, this one of pain, from the direction of the bathroom. A minute later, Gambit returned, soaked from head to toe and rubbing his wrist. Emma smiled.

“You didn’t knock.”

“I’ve never seen a man leap out of bathtub like that.”

“Sorry, Gambit, old chap.” Steed came in toweling his hair. “Teach you to sneak up on a naked man.” 

He moved a bit easier – the warm water and, perhaps, the sudden call to action seemed to do him some good. He tossed a towel at Gambit and pecked Emma’s cheek – a very public display of affection for Steed.

“Now, what was so important that you needed to interrupt my bath for?” 

Gambit glanced at Emma.

“She does still have security clearance,” said Steed.

“Blakeley escaped.”


End file.
